


Puppets

by Arnie



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-20
Updated: 2012-01-20
Packaged: 2017-10-29 20:48:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arnie/pseuds/Arnie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg Lestrade dealing with his team after the end of Reichenbach Fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Puppets

**Author's Note:**

> Contains massive spoilers for Reichenbach Fall.

"Donovan, Anderson, my office now." Greg didn't even look back to see if they were following him. Their working relationship had been strained, to say the least, since Anderson's "Make that thirty or forty!" snide comment in the Superintendent's office. Sherlock's death hadn't changed that. Death... Make that suicide.

Greg swallowed down his fury again. He didn't - couldn't - blame Sherlock, but, by God, he wanted to. What the hell had he been thinking to hurl himself off...

He stopped that train of thought, grabbing at the edge of his office door to steady himself. Why he was getting vertigo was beyond him; it wasn't like he was falling.

"Sir?"

Greg ignored Donovan's concerned voice. If only she'd been as concerned for Sherlock. Okay, he knew, really, that she'd been right to voice her suspicions. And it had been suspicious that little girl had reacted so violently to Sherlock's presence, but Donovan and Anderson could have handled it better. Christ, so could he. In the end, Sherlock had been betrayed - most of his sort-of-colleagues in the force turning on him like hyenas, all too ready to believe that he'd kidnapped and attempted to kill two little children. No doubt, no innocent until proven guilty, but an attitude of "it was only a matter of time". What kind of due process and professional detachment was that?

So Sherlock had been left with no one except John to fight in his corner. Maybe he'd figured it was better to go, end it, before John doubted him too. Though, if Sherlock had been half as clever as he'd thought he was, he'd have known that John could never doubt him. Even now, after that ridiculous phone 'confession' of his, John was still loudly proclaiming Sherlock's genius to all and sundry. And it looked like he'd been right.

God help them all.

Greg grabbed the file from his desk and turned, not bothering to invite either Donovan or Anderson to take a seat, not bothering to sit down himself. This wouldn't take long. Not long to knock down that well-built tower of suspicion that had sprung up in Moriarty's wake. All it took was removing one chunk of the foundation.

"The kids have talked," Greg said. He waited for the snide comments to start again.

Anderson smirked. "Surprised?"

Greg stared at Donovan.

Her gaze fell to the file, or maybe she was just avoiding his - at this point, Greg didn't care. "And they said...?"

"Sherlock was innocent." He ignored the look of shock on Anderson's face, focusing on Donovan's. She was his second in command on the team - the one he'd relied on to have his back. He knew she'd been right to have suspicions - maybe Greg himself was the one who'd been too blinkered - but she and Anderson had _wanted_ to believe the worst, and Greg found that hard to forgive. And they'd been wrong. "The kidnapper wore a mask and a wig to look like Sherlock - that's why the girl screamed."

Donovan's eyes met his, that fighting spirit he'd so admired still evident. "Sir, with all due respect -"

"Oh, don't worry, Donovan; I didn't question the kids myself - no leading of the witnesses. The psychiatrists their parents hired worked together with the child protection team to find out what happened. The boy stated specifically that it was a mask."

"It could still have been Holmes," Anderson put in. "Maybe he -"

"Shut it!" Greg put the folder down and leaned on his desk, glaring at them. "The kids described the kidnapper. He was short and bulky. So unless you're going to claim John Watson put on a Sherlock mask, wig and padding in a bizarre attempt to implicate his own flatmate, I don't want to hear another word." He took a breath. "Now get out of my office."

Anderson turned and left, but Donovan stayed. "Sir." She stayed silent until Greg raised his eyes and stared at her, then continued, "I still think I was right to be suspicious, but I handled it...badly. I'm sorry."

"We all handled it badly, Donovan." And Sherlock had paid the price. "Get out. Please. I've got work to do."

"Sir."

As the door closed behind her, Greg sank down into his chair. Moriarty had pulled their strings and they'd all danced. At least the bastard was dead. Supposed to be dead, Greg reminded himself. He wouldn't put it past him to resurrect himself from the grave somehow.

Greg inhaled, the intake of air sounding shakily in the room. Maybe, somehow, Sherlock could pull off a miracle and be the one to return from the grave. Maybe. Greg closed the folder and dropped it into his out-tray. And maybe pigs would fly.

End


End file.
